Today, I had the pleasure of listening to Nikki Giovanni share her thoughts about cancer, family, friendship, death, and love. I love listening to poets speak. However, there is something special, something uniquely beautiful about a wise (wise with age and experience) black woman sharing her thoughts and ideas about life and the world around us. I love (I need a new word!) that I always see members of my family or people that I know within the spirits of other black people. That is so comforting. I believe that feeling speaks to the continuity of culture within the black community. If anyone ever said it was real, I said it.
Anyway, Nikki spoke on so much and in true africana fashion her speech was dynamic yet simply and quite plainly cyclical. It ended in a need for healing and clarity and a writer (poets) quest to solve those issues by writing. So she found healing in love and wrote a book of love poems called "Bicycles". She read a few poems from the book, they were wonderful my favorite: "Deal or no Deal". Buy the book if you come across it.
During the whole night with Nikki, which I was happy to partake in since school has yet to impede upon my life, I kept thinking about PJ... what he means to me and why he means so much. I love him and that is clear as day. and Nikki shed some serious light on the subject of love and emotions in general. Love is relative. No one can love like I can and no one will love me like they love somebody else. On the same note, that allows or even more clearly defines the inherent differences between sympathy and empathy. When a parent dies, a child is sick, a love is lost, I can easily sympathize with a person but it is impossible, literally for me to empathize with anyone and their feelings on any given situation. I am me, they are they and that is that.
Nevertheless, I know that I love PJ and everyday (may be a slight (very slight) exaggeration, but I have come to realize that is the beauty of story telling) he gives me another reason to appreciate his presence in not only my life but in the world in general. Apparently, he had an assignment to read the short story "Going to Meet the Man" by James Baldwin. For those of you who are not aware, I am a nerd, so when he said he was looking for it online to read, I quickly found it and read the story for myself. I guess my only point in mentioning that is to say we both sat, sideway glancing in the webcam via iChat and read the story. Copying and pasting points we wanted to make and exciting moments and overall...being nerdy. I love I have someone to do that with.
Since my reading has been slacking in 2009, I figured that I would take the time to reflect on some themes in the story. I need to write... it is February 7 (happy birthday boo!) and I have yet to sit in a class at the University of Delaware, this winter session stuff is BLOWING ME.
the story describes how a white man came to into "being", into being the man that he is. i want people to read it, its short so click the heading title to find all about it.
The story speaks on
sexuality
as a definition of masculinity
was a big, healthy man and he had never had any trouble
sleeping. And he wasn't old enough yet to have any trouble
getting it up—he was only forty-two. And he was a good man,
a God-fearing man, he had tried to do his duty all his life, and
he had been a deputy sheriff for several years. Nothing had
ever bothered him before, certainly not getting it up. Some-
times, sure, like any other man,
as a definition of humanity
he knew that he wanted a little
more spice than Grace could give him and he would drive over
yonder and pick up a black piece or arrest her, it came to the
same thing,
as a spectrum
the story mentions a variety of times what was arousing to the main character and what wasn't. sexuality in this story is not THIS or THAT, its a continuum of definition and relativity
hate
as a learned behavior
the author shows in the story that behaviors are not innate, especially behaviors relating to hatred, they are acquiesced possibly, but innate, not at all
as an excuse
an excuse for your own tragic flaws, mistakes, shortcomings....
it was a good read. if you have 30 minutes to spare.
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Now playing: Martin Luther McCoy - While My Guitar Gently Weeps
via FoxyTunes
February 6, 2009
Going to Meet the Man - James Baldwin, 1948
contemplated by queenhatshepsut at 11:47 PM
Extraneous Variables james baldwin, pj, response, short story
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